Chillrend
by Magichild
Summary: Dannen is aching to see the world, dark elf Sathyn has seen too much of it. But wishes have a way of twisting and coming to fruition in a much darker way than intended. Femslash.
1. Chapter 1

Dannen woke up with a horrific headache and more aches and pains than she ever remembered having before. It wasn't surprising, considering she had slept on the packed-dirt floor of their home, and, she realized with a sense of disappointment in herself, dangerously close to the fire. The only thing she felt really motivated to do at that moment was crawl into her actual bed and sleep, but she could see the rose-gold light of dawn was already falling in strips across the floor where it shone between the shutters of the farm's windows. Which meant one thing – it was already time to get to … work was a terrible thing. And so was getting up. With a shaky push that sent the world tilting and her unsettled stomach screaming a warning she sat upright and brushed at the straw embedded into her skin. It had started to itch now she was awake.

Still unsteady, she stood up and, careful not to wake her father who was still sleeping soundly under his furs, she slipped outside. The morning was a beautiful one; the sun was still rising, bathing the forest in which she lived with a honey colored light that made it look like a dream. She instantly felt better - beneath her bare feet the grass was soaked with cool dew, which helped to wake her up a little more, and the fresh air eased her headache as she stepped from the grass and into the gritty mud to the side of the house, Dannen made her way towards the well to wash away the dust caked onto her face.

As well as grainy,the mud was jarringly freezing compared to the refreshing dew, and oozed up to fill the spaces between her toes. It was a horrible feeling at the best of times, but feeling like she did it was nearly unbearable. The well wasn't much to see – little more than a shaft covered with thin planks of wood to stop leaves and small animals from falling in, but the water was fresh and clean, even if it did taste far earthier than the fresh river water the people collected up in Chorrol. - she lowered the bucket down inside, careful not to let go of the old rope. She had done that before a few years ago, and the trouble it had been to fish it out had been so great she had always been very careful since. The water she drew was colder even than the mud, biting her fingers as she scooped up a handful to splash against her face. The shock of it cleared the last of the sleep from her mind and two more handfuls got rid of the meady, sour feeling in her mouth left over from the night before.

She and the few other people her age from the town had spent the night before talking and drinking. She hadn't gotten home until well after dark - most likely the cause for the sickening, heavy, tiredness that she felt. But rest or no rest, there were things to do. Just…in a minute. Dannen leaned against the wooden fence of the farm watching the road wind off into the trees, wondering for a moment where following it could take her. She had heard lots of stories from the people who followed that road, about different countries and strange creatures and foreign cities that looked nothing like Chorrol. A lot about the Imperial City too, recently. Even though it wasn't foreign, she was sure that it didn't look much like Chorrol either. Always there were strange stories from travelers about the things that happened there. They had said once, when she was a child, that a dragon there had turned to stone before everyone's very eyes. Her father told her not to believe it, but had been her favorite story anyway. She liked to watch the people coming and going from the city even now, more than a decade later. Sometimes she would stop them and talk, about the city, about places they had seen. A lot of people seemed happy to tell her about what lay beyond the farm. But most of the time though the only people passing were just guards on patrol. She knew them all by name, but never spoke to them out on the road. She wouldn't want to upset her father.

This morning there was already a figure making its way down the road from the town, but this wasn't a mounted guard or anyone she knew. She was intrigued - it was far to early for any of the villagers to go out into the forest, or for merchants to set out to Bruma or any of the other nearby settlements. The person was taller than an Imperial, and wore dark leathers and a long bow strapped to their back. Probably a hunter – the Great Forest was full of them, all tracking the abundant deer and elusive boars. But something about the person's stride made her look away. Hunter or not, there was a cold aura of purpose about them that seemed almost threatening.

"I didn't expect you to be waiting for me to arrive."Dannen's head snapped up and a surge of surprise made her headache flood back sickeningly. The person the person had crossed the distance between them alarmingly fast.

_They must have run_, she thought, but she hadn't heard them. Probably an experienced hunter then, but that didn't explain why they thought she was waiting for them.

At this distance she could also see that she had been right in her estimations - not an imperial but a female dunmer dressed in heavy looking leather armor. Her skin was a dark blue-gray and in places faintly lined with silvery lavender where it must have been cut with a blade some time in the past, all of which made her deep red eyes seem all the more unnatural and demonic. Instinctively Dannen stepped backwards and away from the fence, creating a barrier between them.

"You _were_ waiting for me?" said the stranger, furrowing her brow slightly in confusion.

"No, I wasn't waiting for anyone." Dannen replied, now a little more uncertain than afraid. She hadn't been expecting those unsettling eyes, but this wasn't the first dunmer she'd ever seen.

"Well. I'm here anyway."

The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, both as confused as the other.

"Well…what was it you wanted me to do?" prompted the elf, hitching the leather strap of her longbow to a more comfortable spot on her shoulder.

"Do…?"

"What you hired me for, remember? You _do_ remember, don't you?"

Dannen did not. Somewhere between Reameo Bruiant deciding that The Grey Mare would be much more fun than the Oak and Crosier and waking up at home she had lost track of the evening in a blur of tipsiness and faces. But even then she was sure she would have remembered hiring this woman, especially with eyes like that. She couldn't explain why the hunter would be here though if she hadn't. The dunmer seemed to read her expression because her own look of uncertainty vanished.

"You don't, do you? You asked me if I wanted a job, and to meet you here some time after dawn. Don't worry about it if you didn't mean it though, I think it was more of a general address to the room when you offered."

Dannen winced at the idea of how much of a fool of herself she must have made to have been offering jobs to the entire bar. She was surprised too. The stranger was being, well, _agreeable_, which hadn't been her first impression at all. With a deep breath (and the hope she wasn't doing something she would regret) she smiled reassuringly.

"I don't actually remember you, I'm sorry. But I _do_ need to hire a hand. I guess if we agreed something last night then I'd better keep my word, even if I don't actually remember giving it."

The elf returned her smile, although it didn't quite reach her eyes, making Dannen wonder again if she was doing the right thing. But what was done was done now. She probably just thought Dannen was an idiot. She felt like even more of an idiot as she showed her new hire around the farm. The farm house was much more 'house' than 'farm', and their fields were more 'garden' than anything else. If that. It had been a long time since her father had been well enough to till and plant the land, and longer still since he had wanted to. Weeds had choked the tomato vines but the corn grew unchecked amongst the death bells and other only that but the mer looked so very out of place standing knee deep in petals dressed as though she were ready to go off fighting bandits or hunting wild animals. It was embarrassing to ask someone like that to dig up weeds.

"So, what is it you were planning on getting me to do?" the stranger asked. "I'm good at tracking animals, and I'm not so bad at carrying and lifting things if that's what you wanted."

Dannen's face fell a little. She had hoped that she had already at least given an impression of what she had wanted her hiree to do, but apparently she hadn't. She coughed a little to clear her throat.

"Actually, the first thing I really need help with is this." She waved her hand around, to make clear what she meant. She really hadn't wanted to say 'pull weeds'."You mean clear this land?"

"Yes."The other woman looked pensively around the half-acre, but her emotions beyond that were impossible to read. She didn't seem averse to the idea though, just thoughtful.

"It'll be a shame." she said after a moment.

"What will?"

"The flowers. Pulling them up. They grow so beautifully here, and I've never seen so many deathbells or this much lavender before."

It was hard for Dannen to imagine someone like that caring about flowers, but the way those eyes scanned the banks of color seemed genuine. And that was more reassuring than anything the mer could have said. No one who looked at flowers that way could be as cold as she had assumed her to be. And with that she found herself suddenly much more at ease.

"It will be, I suppose, but you can't eat death bells."

"No…I guess not."

* * *

The rest of that morning was spent working harder than she had in a long time- on top of her usual duties she was also trying to find time to make a space for her new 'farmhand' to sleep. She hadn't been sure what the elf would have wanted at first - the woman's clothing and demeanor seemed to imply that she was used to far superior surroundings than straw strewn earth near the fire, but the scars on her face also implied that she had seen her fair share of rough environments. Dannen truly found her impossible to decision was thankfully made for her when the elf brought her belongings into the small porch of the house to keep out of the sun, along with her thick leather armor, and got to work. Since then Dannen had been pushing furniture as quietly as she could (so as not to wake her father prematurely — it was still only an hour or so after dawn) and sweeping the floor free of dust ready for the make-shift from what she saw as she hurried in and out of the house, her effort was well deserved.

After parting to get on with their respective tasks, the elf had immediately begun work on the field, and her progress was sure and swift. Already she had cleared about a third of the land of the utterly useless plants that were no good in food, potions or salves, and the pile she had made was about as high as the wooden fence that separated it from the surrounding woodland. Dannen no longer had any regrets about the deal she had made just an hour or so before. Sathyn - which was the mer's name - still made her feel uncertain somehow, but no longer was the uncertainly tinged with fear. She felt instead simply unsure about how to treat her new hand, and it was actually a struggle to even think of her as one. When she had first had the idea to hire someone to finally beat the family home back into its former glory she had imagined a typical handsome, blond-haired nord boy with muscular arms and a deep tan from working the land. A cross between the farmer's son's she knew, and the heroes that had bridged the gap between wide eyed childhood to the confusing world of a break from her work, she leant against the stone wall of the farmhouse and wasn't sure how Sathyn compared to that. It was almost as though she had had her secret wishes and practical expectations twisted as a joke of fate. The elf was probably as strong as the men she had pictured, her muscles clearly defined as she pressed on with determination, and no doubt her appearance and scars indicated some level of excitement and danger in her past, but at the same time the elf was the complete opposite of her original visions. Dark hair instead of blond, blue-grey skin instead of tanned, red fiery eyes instead of sky blue. And all that ignored the matter of sex entirely. She couldn't help but feel disappointed.

She played with a lock of her own straw-gold hair as she thought those things to herself , lost in a world where nords with broad, mischievous grins winked at her as they shoveled earth like it weighed then there was her father to think about. He would certainly not be happy to find out what she had done. It had been his own very conscious choice to let the farm fall to ruins and cut himself off from the town, and now she had finally acted on her long held resentments she found herself afraid to actually stand up to him and voice them.

"Is there a problem?"

The sound of the dark elf's voice jerked her out of her reverie, and she realized she had been staring out at the field for some time.

"No, I was just taking a break and started to daydream a little."

The elf made a noise in the back of her throat and nodded, beginning again to work on clearing some of the plants in which she was knee deep.

"DANNEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

The voice of her father rang out clearly from inside the small house, bouncing off the surrounding hills and ringing back to them. Immediately she sprang from the wall with fear - she hadn't planned for him to wake up so early. She certainly hadn't had time to plan out what she was going to say, how she was going to explain what was going her expression, the elf stopped work and got to her feet, looking at her as if to gauge what it was she ought to do flapped her hands to tell her not to worry, and with a deep breath turned and walked into the house to meet her father's judgment.

Inside it was nearly too dark for her to see, with the only light coming from the embers of the fire and the two small windows high on the walls, from which beams of light fell illuminating the interior in pools. On one side of the room was her own bed, neat and unslept in, and on the other stood an identical frame belonging to her father. The bedclothes were mussed and he was groggily sitting on it, pointing accusingly at the rough bed she had begun to make for Sathyn.

"What on earth have you brought that great bundle of straw into the house for?" he demanded. _So it's going to be straight to the point, _she thought with an internal wince. At least she'd be able to explain before he fully woke up, which might help. There was no point putting it off, so she just jumped right in.

"It's a bed. Or it will be. For the new farm hand I hired."

He just sat and looked at her, as though what she had said was so far from what he expected that he had just decided that she hadn't said it.

"We need to start making money from the farm again. We can't afford to just sell our things when we need food. We're running ourselves into the ground."

Again he said nothing, just looked down at the floor and blinked, this time as if he were thinking. "No."

Suddenly she wasn't worried anymore, just angry. In the dim lighting, with her father sitting like that, she could really see what was and had been going on her entire life. Her father wasn't just ill, he had chosen this life for them out of stubbornness as well as grief. And it wasn't the life she was going to let herself live.

"You don't get to say no."Angrily her father looked up and into her eyes.

"This is _my_ house, you are _my _daughter. How dare you try to take this farm out from under me: a sick man and your own flesh and blood."

"Would you even still call it a farm? And is it really yours when it's _my_ efforts that have kept us going while you've decided to let it fall to ruins? This isn't your decision to make, because there is no other way that we can keep on if we don't. Don't you see that I do everything for you, and I do it because I love you? And you want us to starve and live on scraps because you can't bear to accept the past."

As soon as she said it, she was filled with triumph, and regret. They were things she had been longing to say for a very long time, but she knew that they would hurt him all the same. She didn't want to do that; he wasn't a bad man. Life had been hard on him, and he had gone on in the way that was easiest, but it wasn't a way that she could continue to he really did seem hurt - his disbelief and anger had drained somewhat, and he had turned ashen and pale.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out. How…You know…you know how talking about…OUT."

The last word became a hacking cough, and slumped slightly, clutching his side like it was a deep wound. Instantly she was at his side, laying him back down, fetching medicines and salves to help with his pain. It wasn't just stubbornness which had kept the farm in disarray. When she had been about six or seven her father had developed a strong, painful cough that only seemed to get worse. It might have gotten better had he been more willing to see a healer, but by the time he had been convinced to go he had been choking up congealed blood for weeks. It was, of course, a bad case of Blood Lung, and at that stage it was incurable. Since then most of her time was spent gathering plants and creating medicines. Draughts to help him sleep, soothing salves to ease the tightness when he breathed, syrups to stop his throat from burning from the never-ending coughing. One day it was going to kill him.

Laying him down into the bed and pushing the pillows up to make sure he could breathe clearly she worked quickly and expertly, knowing how to do it by heart. Eventually the coughing subsided, and although ragged, his breathing was a lot easier."Get some rest, there's no point getting upset like that." She was struggling to find the right way to word what she needed to say. Now that he knew what she had been thinking, and what she had done she needed to make him see how important it was, and also that her mind could not be changed. All without upsetting him all over again."When the land is clear and growing again, you'll see how much better things will be, I promise."He did not reply, and not knowing how to go on, she decided to leave him to recover.

For a long time she sat against the wall of the porch, watching Sathyn work, listening to make sure that her father didn't get up or cough again. She felt suddenly exhausted. All the excitement, rebellion and hope that the implementation of her plan had brought about faded into an empty feeling. Whenever she had daydreamed about doing this she had always tried to skip over the parts where her father was concerned - knowing how he would react - and somehow she had managed to convince herself to disregard him in reality. But now, faced with the harsh image of his pale face and violent coughing, she found herself wondering if there had indeed been another way to stay afloat, if she really was a bad daughter. A few times she felt like telling Sathyn that she had made a mistake.. But whenever she did make up her mind to do it, she saw how different the field looked thinks to her efforts. Seeing the weeds being pulled up made it look like the field was waking up, being released. It made her feel a little more like she was doing the right thing.

"Are you okay?"

Dannen jumped awake. Curled into a ball thinking, she had drifted off. She yawned a little.

"Yes. Well, no, maybe."

Sathyn raised an eyebrow.

"My father wasn't pleased to find out that I hired you. It was his decision to let the fields waste and even though we have no choice but to work the land again he's so upset it's making his illness worse, and he might not let you stay in the house. He probably wont make things easy for you." She looked down, feeling defeated.

"Well, it takes more than that to scare me off a job. You're the one with the gold. I'm yours as long as you want me. Or said gold runs out, whichever happens first."

The mer shrugged, and Dannen was unsure whether it was meant to be a joke or simply the truth, but either way it was a relief. The two women smiled wanly at each other, before Dannen coughed, looking away, embarrassed. But a lot less upset than she had been moments before.

"It'll be better soon, once he's had time to think about it. It's just been a shock, and..." she mentally kicked herself in the shins as she realized she was about to begin rambling, "…we should go to get some alchemy ingredients."

"Alright." The mer nodded in agreement. At first she began to make her way towards the road up towards Chorrol, but Dannen waved her over and pointed towards a worn trail that snaked off into the woods, and felt a glow of pride as her companion gave her respectful nod. It was nice to think that she'd impressed someone.

* * *

Even though Dannen knew the way like the back of her hand, Sathyn soon took the lead - the path was rough and pitted, with gnarled roots constantly trying to trip the imperial up as her skirts tried to wrap around her ankles. It really wasn't surprising that Sathyn got ahead so easily, with her powerful legs and leather greaves, which not only didn't trip her but protected her from seemingly every thorn. Dannen seemed to catch herself on every plant in the forest. After a minute or so, she just couldn't carry on matching the Sathyn's pace and stopped, resting against a tree for a moment.

"You okay?" The dunmer stopped a few paces ahead, and turned back to face her as she sheepishly rearranged her skirts, which had bunched up uncomfortably between her legs.

"Yes, just these skirts are hard to walk quickly in, and they snag all the time"

"Hm" the mer nodded, "You'd do better with a good pair of pants, or even just a split skirt you can tie to your legs when you walk if you're really _that_ attached to tradition."

She then leant against a tree herself and looked out across the wooded valley that stretched out below them, and off towards the farm, the way they had come.

" You travel a fair way into the forest to find your plants. I'm surprised your father lets you go alone."

Inwardly, Dannen grimaced. If her father ever caught wind of just what her herb gathering entailed he would never allow it.

"He doesn't really know for the most part. He knows I go out to get the herbs for his medicines and the salves I sell at the temple, but really he's not well enough to come out and see how deep my trail goes. But he _is _very protective. He blames himself for my brothers' deaths."

She hadn't been sure if she should tell the stranger why her father acted the way he did, but it seemed to have come out of her all in a rush without any real conscious decision to justify her statement.

"You had brothers?" Sathyn turned to look at her, a strange expression on her face. Dannen was used to being quizzed about what happened or hearing the story retold by now, and for the most part people were either pitying or gleeful in their gossiping. Sathyn seemed to be neither, and for this she was oddly grateful. The mer seemed interested, but not uncomfortable or sympathetic, and it made her want to talk more than she usually would have. Of course, the story would no doubt get to her soon - in a smaller town like Chorrol even old news like that would be excitedly recounted by everyone in the bar upon finding out where the elf was staying, and so as a justification it was in her best interests to tell it first. But all the same, she felt as if she truly wanted to talk about it with Sathyn.

"Yes, but I don't remember them much at all. I was really very small when they died. The farm was attacked by goblins, but my father stayed back in Chorrol with me, because my mother died not long after I was born, meaning there was no one else he trusted to look after me. I suppose he was worried and protective back then even. The farm was our livelihood, but being so close to the forest goblin attacks were getting so frequent we just had to do something about it. The guards wouldn't help us because we were outside the city walls, so he hired a traveler with a reputation for helping people with problems like that to go with them."

She paused for a moment, thinking about how best to word the rest.

"She was the only one who came back. It wasn't her fault of course - there were so many goblins and she was badly hurt too. But it was my brothers who really bore the brunt. My father….well, when he was younger he was something of an adventurer. Or at least that's what he makes out to everyone who listens. I found out a few years ago that he was really just a plain old sellsword, but maybe that's why he blames himself so much? I don't really know. But my brothers didn't know how to fight at all.

"Since then my father hasn't left the farm except for their funeral. He doesn't trust the people in the town anymore, what with the gaurds refusing to help us." she shook her head, but after so long she felt no anger, just a sadness thinking yet again about how her life had changed before she was old enough to know differently.

" We used to provide most of the food for the town once. But once Rallus and Antus died my father hasn't touched the earth, and well, I wouldn't know where to start. That's why I hired you. We have a little money left, but we can't go on forever living off of selling our things."

Sathyn didn't reply, and the pair stood, their backs against the thick-trunked yews and watched as a hawk circled and swooped through the air far above the trees. Again, Dannen felt a deep gratefulness to her taciturn companion. She was starting to appreciate the other woman's calm demeanor which she had first taken for coldness or even hostility. For a few minutes more the silenced stretched on, before they left their spot on the tree and continued on down the trail, at a slower pace this time.

"Do you know how to farm then?" Dannen said at last.

"A little. I'm not really used to it here though, I grew up in Morrowind. The climate, the earth - it's all different in that part of the world."

Dannen looked up in surprise. "Really? But…I thought you'd have an accent? How do you speak cyrodilic so well?'

The elf met her gaze, and smiled oddly.'I've been here a long time.'

'Ah.' Something about the tone of her voice implied that this was a subject which she did not intend too expand upon further.

"But as for cyrodilic, all the provinces use it, didn't you know?"

"No."

"We used to speak a language called Dunmeri. We still do, sometimes. But it tends to be the older elves the speak it day to day, for the younger elves it's more a matter of pride to know how, even if there's little call for it. We're a stubborn, arrogant race of people, and we live for long, long times, so it's hard to loose our heritage even when things change so much."

Dannen laughed a little, knowing a few dunmer over the years she agreed wholeheartedly with the idea of the dunmer as arrogant and stubborn. Sathyn might have been a little cold and untalkative, but most she had met had been all sneers and cutting sarcasm and by comparison she seemed utterly friendly. But as far as their culture or even lifespans she knew almost nothing at all, and Sathyn's comments intrigued her.

"You do? How long?"

The elf shrugged. "It's not unheard of for us to reach 180, even 200."

"200...wow. So…how old are _you_?"

"About 47 now" she replied with another shrug. Dannen was shocked - the elf's skin was smooth and tight over her sharp features, and her frame was strong and youthful.

"That's…impossible. You look 20 if that."

This time it was Sathyn who laughed, a low throaty sound that seemed to hold just a little of the arrogance she had referenced moments before.

"Well, humans age so quickly it's almost like you're fruit going bad. I wouldn't really expect you to be able to judge an elf's age."

Dannen scowled, but her curiosity was still burning.

"What is Morrowind like?"

Luckily Sathyn seemed to be enjoying knowing more than her companion, because everything she said was sparking off a thousand new thoughts and questions. Already she had forgotten the ghost pain of talking about her brothers, and the anger left over from her argument with her father."It's…very different and in many ways the same. It's hard to describe to someone who has never seen it. Different animals, different plants. Have you been to Cheydenhal?"

Dannen shook her head.

"Well, if you had, it's pretty similar to that."

For a little while longer they walked between the trees before they came to a small clearing filled with wildflowers and fallen tree trunks. It was perfect for collecting alchemy ingredients, but Sathyn seemed ill at ease. While Dannen was scanning the undergrowth for the right fungi and roots, Sathyn scanned the trees, trying hard to look like she wasn't, but occasionally Dannen would see her eyes flash over the surroundings with suspicion. Goblins weren't the worst thing that you could run into in The Great Forrest afterall.

'You don't carry a weapon when you go out here?'

'No' Dannen said, a little confused, perusing a tree on which vibrant orange fungus grew.

"But aren't you afraid? What if you came across wolves or bears or something worse?"

"This close to Chorrol? Anyway, the guards are nearby, if anything happened they'd come running."

"I thought you said that they consider what happens outside the walls as not their concern?"

She looked worried for a moment."I'm sure they would though."

Sathyn raised her eyebrow skeptically.

"I think you should carry a weapon. Look, I've traveled a lot, and believe me, there are things that would make the head of the guard wet the bed out there. Just because a place like this _looks_ idyllic doesn't mean that you're safe. Don't just trust that other people will be your defense."

Dannen raised her own eyebrow to match the elf's own expression, half out of mockery, half genuine disbelief. She had been coming to the spot every day more most of her life, and hadn't even seen a squirrel up to now.

"Fine, don't believe me. " she said, huffing again. "Just, look, there'll be a sword in your house right?"

Dannen nodded.

"Carry it. It won't do any harm. Not to you anyway."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about using it."

"I can teach you."

"You know how to use a sword?"

The elf smiled like Dannen had asked a very stupid question, which she realized it probably was. She simply wasn't used to talking to people like Sathyn. Her usual acquaintances were merchants, or the other inexperienced youths of the town.

"Of course. I'm better with a bow, and daggers are faster if you're up close but I'm sure I could teach you how to swing that sword and not cut your left arm off."

Dannen was offended, but to her amazement realized that Sathyn had been joking rather than mocking her.

"Ha. I guess it wouldn't be a bad thing to learn." she said at last. After that the two of them worked together, walking in circles, picking anything that looked like it might be useful and storing it in the hide satchel, although Sathyn continued to glance around the trees frequently. From time to time Dannen would find something new and bring it over to her to teach her to recognize it, and although she sometimes thought that she was humoring her, the mer never said anything.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they reached the edge of the field again it was already starting to get dark, and Dannon was itching to get back to the house to make sure her father had recovered. Usually if an attack was going to return it would have done so while she was still at the farm, but she always worried whenever she was away too long. Being the sole carer for her father was a huge responsibility, and one that weighed heavily on her mind at all times. But, at seeing the field almost cleared of its weeds and debris, she felt a surge of happiness and hope too as the pair strode home laden with mushrooms and bark.

When they reached the door of the house she hesitated, unsure what to do with Sathyn. She wanted to invite the elf in to eat, but she was also worried that it was far too soon to have her father meet the new hand. After a moment she pushed on the bleached wood of the door and the pair walked into the warmth of the house.

At the center of the room she could see her father, who was obviously feeling better than before, as he had managed to move himself over to the chair that stood by the hearth. In the firelight he looked haggard and even older than he was, but she was grateful to the world that he was okay.

"Father?" she called tentatively.

He looked around, but his eyes settled only on her, despite the five inches of height the elf had on Dannen.

"We were out collecting herbs for your medicines. I'm sorry I got home later than normal, I'll get the food ready right now."

She found herself bumbling like a child under his gaze, and hurried over to the corner of the room which she liked to think of as her alchemy lab, where she deposited her takings from the trip. Compared to the one in the Mage's Guild it was more of a stained bench, but it was enough for the petty alchemy she was used to performing.

Next she pulled pots and jars down from the wall cupboards on either side of the mantle, and began to throw together a spiced mushroom soup - the only reliable food source they currently possessed.

All the while her father took no notice at all of Sathyn, although with her dark clothes and odd coloring she seemed to melt into the shadows anyway. It gave Dannen a strange feeling, as though Sathyn wasn't standing in the room at all, except when she purposefully looked towards her.

As the pot began to boil the silence stretched on, and Dannen wasn't quite sure what the best way to break it would be. She was weighing her options between either introducing Sathyn, and risking her father's outright rejection, or simply highlighting her presence by talking to her…and risk alienating her father even more. It was a difficult situation, but at least the pair seemed content in their silence while she decided.

She sighed a little into the fire. The day had been too long, too difficult and too unplanned for. Once the soup was ready she began to ladle it out. Her father took his bowl without meeting her eyes, staring fixedly at the fire. Sathyn murmured her thanks, but other than that the silence stretched on.

"Where were you planning on staying?" she asked the elf at last. "I can still make up a bed for you in here."

Her red eyes flicked to Dannen's fathers face and she shook her head slightly.

"I'll make camp nearby. I have all the things I need with me. "

"You really don't have to do that." Dannen protested.

"I like to be able to come and go, and I wouldn't want to disturb you."

"If you're sure."

She felt awkward. She was certain that the only reason her new employee would be sleeping outside for the whole night was her father's frostiness. She was glad at least that Sathyn was the kind of person who seemed to know what they were doing outside alone. There were bears out in the woods, she knew, and while she had never seen one news would occasionally reach the town of travelers and merchants out on the road who had been mauled and killed. Or at least, it was probably a bear that was the culprit. She had also heard tales about more frightening and exotic creatures such as trolls.

A moment later the elf scooped up the last of her vegetable broth and took to her feet.

"I'd better be going if I'm going make myself a fire, and find a good place to camp."

"I'll take you to the gate - there are a few marshy areas you'll want to avoid that I can point out." she replied.

The elf nodded her head in thanks, and pushed open the door so that Dannen could go ahead of her.

Outside the sky was already black, and while there were a few stars out, there was no moon at all. It didn't look like a good night for camping at all, especially for one who knew nothing about the lay of the land.

"Really, you can stay. It might even help my father get used to you."

"I was serious when I said it was my preference to be able to come and go as I wish, so please, don't worry about me. And don't worry about your father - he's proud, but as soon as he realizes you're serious he'll find some excuse for himself to feel better about it."

"I hope so." she said as she leant against the gate that separated the farm from the road. "If you really are serious about camping, then that marshy area I was talking about is down there in that clearing."

"Thank you again."

With so little light Sathyn's pale skin almost made her look like a human, and her red eyes seemed black. As she smiled, Dannen found herself wondering what she would look like with imperial coloring, but with her sculpted elven features it still looked oddly unnatural.

"Well, goodbye then."

They nodded at each other briefly, and parted."Wait a minute."

Dannen turned back from her way down the path to listen.

"That sword above the fire. Do you think you could get it to use for practice?"

She shrugged awkwardly. She was still unsure about the idea of learning how to use a sword - the fear of hurting herself was not quite yet being overruled by the countless stories of blade-wielding heroes she loved so much. The sword itself was also another separate issue. It had hung above the fire for as long as she could remember: a glass sword that was neither green nor blue, a color she had in fact never seen anywhere else. Her father had brought it home from his younger days of adventuring, and never had it left its pride of place. She was sure it would not be well received if she were to touch it, let alone allow Sathyn to use it.

"I don't know if that would be such a good idea. It's valuable, and I think my father would think even worse of me - and you - if he found out we'd been playing around with it."

Sathyn raised her eyebrows.

"Playing? Maybe I _shouldn__'__t_ teach you if you're going to think of it as a game."

"That's not what I meant. It's not mine alright?"

Unsurprisingly this line of protest had no impact on the elf. It's wasn't a wide stretch of the imagination to see her stealing a thing or two, and for a fleeting second Dannen wondered if the whole day had been some kind of plot to rob the house. But that was stupid: everyone knew they had nothing worth stealing. It would be much more time effective to run a scheme up in the town where people actually had things worth having.

"Of course, but you're not stealing it." said the elf dismissively. "Not even borrowing it. You're moving it a yard to the left for a few minutes. But if you _really_ don't want use to use that one you can save up for one of your own I suppose."

Dannen might not have been convinced about swordplay, but she knew for a fact that she would never be able to afford a sword of her own. Even the cheapest, dullest swords for sale were around 45 septims, and they were the kind the bent when you hit them against things.

And deep down she wanted to learn. Something about the day had kicked off a spark of adventure, and her life had changed so much in a day already. It seemed almost the natural progression of things to sneak into the house at night and practice swordplay with her father's blade.

"Okay, I guess it is the best option."

The mer nodded in approval. Dannen had half expected some kind if triumph, but her expression was calm, simply acknowledging that the Imperial.

"When do you think the best time to begin would be? It will have to be at a time when your father won't notice. You're probably right about him not liking the idea of me pawing over his stuff."

"Oh that's easy. Because of his illness I have to give him medicines to help him sleep. He won't wake up until after dawn once he falls asleep."

The pair suddenly smiled as the plan fell into place.

"That's perfect for us then." said Sathyn.

"You should come back in a couple of hours."

She nodded once, and turned on her heel, walking out into the darkness to make camp.

* * *

Knowing that she was about to do something she shouldn't made the hours drag on as she sat in silence with her father. His disapproval was like a thick blanket over the entire room, his face set in a grim expression that never changed. She had tried to make cleaning and putting away the pans last as long as she could, but she was done far before the two hours were up, and she was forced to sit by the fire in silence, anxiety and anticipation washing over her, although she tried her hardest not to show it.

Eventually he shuffled over to his bed, and she was left alone to contemplate her decision. Above the hearth the sword gleamed in the firelight, alternating between inviting and foreboding in her mind.

It was another hour at least before the soft knock finally came , and she hurried to open to open the door. In the doorway stood Sathyn, her featured picked out by the flickering firelight, she looked like an ominous portent of doom, with her hood covering her face, and the red of her eyes glowing. She quickly stepped through the threshold and Dannen had to move out of the way as she moved straight for the sword. Appraisingly, she touched its blade with her fingertips.

"I think this is the perfect sword for you to learn with. Light, strong, well balanced by the look of it." she said softly.

Dannen nodded silently, worried about waking her father even though she knew he was fast asleep - the herbs she gave him in his mead to soothe his pains and nightmares _always_ caused him to sleep soundly. But she was worried that by touching the blade Sathyn would somehow rouse him from his bed. In fact she had never known him to wake earlier than about dawn for years now, but still there was that cold worry left over from her childhood about disobeying him. Which even though she wasn't the one holding the blade, she was sure she was.

The elf gently pulled the sword upwards and outward, freeing it from the brackets that had held it fast against the wall for so long. For a second it had seemed stuck, reluctant to leave its place dominating the room, but then it slid as easily if it hadn't been held at all.

With an appreciating, almost reverent eye Sathyn held it aloft. Dannen had seen a blade quite like this before - even though it had hung above the fire on every day of her life, Dannen had never appreciated just how beautiful the sword was. The newly released glass blade reflected every shadow, and shone straight through with the light of the fire. She wasn't sure if it was the cut of the material , or the flickering of the flames that was causing it, but it seemed like there were changing colors deep in its heart. It reminded her of stories of dragon slayers and heroes with legendary weapons that had names and souls of their own. It seemed then, in the nighttime moment, that this could have been one of those swords.

She didn't know where it had come from, but something that otherworldly surely had more of an interesting tale to tell than anything it has viewed from her mantelpiece. Her father also, no doubt, had more of an interesting tale to tell than he had ever told her to have taken ownership of it.

In silence the elf slowly turned the blade in an arc, light striking its facets and showering sparks of color off into the corners of the room, then offered the hilt to Dannon.

It was heavy, and a little too wide for her hand to grip comfortably. No doubt it had been made with a full-grown man in mind, and at barely eighteen she was neither of those things. But the most unusual thing were the waves of cold coming from the metal, and underneath that a faint thrum of magicka, like the purr of a cat or the first, low warning-growl of something meaner.

_"_It's too heavy" she whispered, wanting to give it back but not stupid enough to push it back in case she somehow cut either of them.

"It's not, believe me. Glass is about as light as wood - you're just feeling the weight of the hilt. Trust me, you'll be able to hold it without me."

Dannon looked doubtful. The blade was long and thick, and looked like it would weigh much more than Sathyn had promised it would. But she nodded to say that she was ready to support its weight, although not before hissing: "If it is, and I drop it, I blame you for any lost toes."

This seemed to dispel the growing feeling of significance and ceremony that had begun to form in the air, and with that the dunmer relinquished her hold, letting the full weight of the sword rest on Dannen's palm for the first time.

Sathyn had been right: the blade was deceptively light, and the way it felt anchored in her hand filled her with a bit more confidence. She gently bounced the blade to test its weight, and would have taken a swing if there had been enough space inside the house.

"It's lighter than I thought it would be."

"I know. Still heavy enough to give you aching arms after a few days of practice, but you'll soon be moving it as easily as you would your arm."

Dannon looked up, tearing her eyes away from the mesmerizing color in the blade. The sword was having a strange effect on her, giving her almost a sense of confidence just from handling it. It was power, in its more primitive form, and it was banishing her hesitancy and fears. She no longer felt the need to keep her voice so low, or even any real worries about carrying the weapon out in the woods. The power of the blade she was holding in her hand was one she instantly felt a longing to control.

"When do you think we should start?" she said, trying not to sound overly eager. "I mean, how can we get away with practicing with it without my father noticing?"

Sathyn smiled thinly, making her oddly colored lips stretch to a pale purple-blue.

"That is the problem, and I can only see one real solution - we'll have to practice at night. If there were some way to give your father his mead earlier, or if we were to make torches and put them in the ground outside after nightfall? Although that might just attract the attention of something you're not ready to take on." She laughed a short, throaty laugh. "But until then, we can use sticks while out on our walks looking for herbs."

Dannen was half afraid, and half offended by this, however conflicting she knew the emotions to be. On one hand the idea of leaving the safety of her home after dark was terrifying, but on the other the bolstering effect of the sword made her feel that the use of sticks was somehow _insulting._

"But why would I need sticks, I mean, it's hardly the same. I wouldn't learn anything you wouldn't have to reteach me with the sword rather than a stick," she protested, trying not to sound sulky.

"Of course you would. For someone who was afraid to touch a sword three minutes ago you've got a lot of confidence in your swordsmanship. Tell me, if I were to come at you with a sword, how would you move your blade to block mine?"

Dannen wanted to answer, but held her tongue. Sathyn was right, she didn't really know anything practical _or_ theoretical, but she still felt deeply disappointed that her new found dreams of skill and heroism had been reduced to fencing with sticks like children.

"Don't worry," said the elf, hefting the sword out of her grip and placing it skillfully back over the mantle. "It's how everyone starts, and believe me, with the bruises you'll get you'll be glad I didn't insist on anything sharper."

Her eyes still lingered on the sword as it reclaimed pride of place with an air of smugness. She couldn't really remember how it had felt to fear it now, the longing to know how to wield it with as much skill as Sathyn had taken its place. It promised her that she could be more than she was.

Following her gaze Sathyn shook her head slightly, and made her way to the door.

"Better get to bed, you'll need your rest if we're to get to starting you off on your way to dragon slaying and maiden rescuing." she said as she turned.

Dannon grunted, as if she were angry, but she was already caught up in the idea of being a hero, just like in the stories she had loved so much since childhood. Suddenly a question popped into her mind and she called out for Sathyn to stop.

"Why are you doing this anyway?" she asked.

"Because it's stupid to go out alone not knowing how to use a sword. And you're paying me to help out around here aren't you? Seems like something which will keep me in a job once that field is clear."

"Ah, okay. Goodnight then." she finished.

"Goodnight".

The elf waved slightly as she left the house, closing the door behind her.

* * *

When Sathyn woke the next day she opened her eyes to a sky of pink and gold clouds. A sound had woken her that was out of place in the woods - faint, but distinct.

There were footfalls crossing the ground on the other side of the trees which shielded her camp from prying eyes. But while hurried there was no indication that the walker was trying to be secretive, and so she relaxed a little. She wondered if she should just go back to sleep a little while longer, but curiosity and a healthy survalist's suspicion prompted her to her feet.

Her movements were fluid and silent, and she passed through the bank of trees in a crouch so as not to be seen.

It was Dannen who had woken her, clutching armfuls of leather pouches and bottles. Her sharp sense of smell caught wafts of the pungent herbs they had picked the day before coming from them. Just the healing potions she had talked about the day before.

Again she felt the urge to go back to her cooling bedroll, her curiosity satisfied. But now she had another curiosity building, the urge to find out what Dannen was doing, and also what kind of person she was dealing with. She had chosen the imperial for various reasons, her isolation, inexperience and romanticism being important factors. But there were sparks of a stronger personality she had seen the day before that were more unwelcome and unexpected.

She liked to know people better than they did themselves, to predict their actions, to know how to control them if she needed to. It was an old habit - but one she doubted she would ever no longer need - and Dannen was proving to be more interesting than anticipated.

So she set off, keeping the head of dark blonde hair always in view, always remaining hidden herself.

When they reached the castle gates things became a little less easy. She was forced to cast in invisibility spell as the guards let the doors close behind her mark. Spells of the caliber were always taxing, regardless of how many times she had cast them. Illusion was her favorite discipline, but other then conjuration it was the one she found hardest to perform. It was probably because of her race. The dunmer were naturals at destruction magic, as much as she detested the discipline, and illusion and conjuration were both creation in a way. The exact opposite of her born aptitude. Still feeling the tingle of the spell she only just managed to slip between the closing doors and inside the town walls.

Her pursuit ended at the gates of the Chapel of Stendarr as she felt her spell flutter and die, so instead of repeating her trick and following she scaled the stone wall, watching through the stained glass and listening close.

Luckily the town was still asleep, because even her sharp, elven ears struggled to pick up their hushed voices from inside.

"I'm sorry Dannen, I simply can't take all of these. I've barely sold half of what you brought me last time. "

The voice was deep and husky, and from what Dannen could make out the figure was either an orc, or a very unfortunately shaped Breton. Almost certainly an orc though.

"Please Orag, you know how much my father and I rely on your kindness."

"I am sorry. Times are hard here too. The congregation have barely anything to give to support us. In troubled times like these everyone is worried about where the next loaf of bread is coming from. First it was the Red Mountain and then the Argonian invasion in Morrowind, and now chancellor Ocato is assassinated just as peace seemed to be in our grasp. Everyone is afraid that what has happened to Morrowind is on the cusp of happening to us."

Sathyn felt an old familiar pain at these words. Sometimes it was easy to forget the destruction in her home country. She had been young when her family had been lured to Cyrodill, but she still remembered it all. It gave her a strange empty feeling that she would never be able to go back. After everything she had seen and done it had always seemed like returning to Morrowind would be like returning to her childhood. That sanctuary was gone.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do for you. You can try at the mage's guild…the price won't be as good but it's something. We must thank the divines for everything we have, Dannen."

The rest was too muffled for even the elf to pick up, and a moment later the imperial passed through the door beneath her and off into the town. There was certainly something different about her walk, as though whatever happened had sucked out some kind of vitality from her movements.

Sathyn sat on the cold stone a little while longer, a plan forming.

The bottles and powder sacks had been heavy on the walk to the chapel, but as she turned away from its doors they seemed at least three times as heavy as they had before. She had gotten up so early to make her potions and salves that she had a headache, and it was all for nothing.

She relied on the partial charity of Orag gra-Bargol's overly fair prices to buy supplies in the town, and it seemed that she would no longer be able to do it. Of course she could trade with the other vendors, but it would be for much, much less than she had hoped. The general stores would drive her to the ground to make a profit, and the Mage's Guild would hardly pay a good price for potions which they could make of a better quality themselves.

But of all the things she could do, the Mage's Guild was probably the best option - while not a charity they did try to encourage arcane talents. Perhaps they would try to make it worth her while 'practicing' by way of encouragement.

She carried her load up to the Mage's Guild steps, and sat down to watch the world go by until they opened for trade. She wished she had brought her book with her. It was about a hero with a magic sword which turned any foe cut with it into some kind of animal.

_So much for my sword practice though,_ she thought. _The sword is probably the next thing we__'__re going to have to sell._

* * *

The price she got for her efforts was barely half of what she had hoped. The high elf had been very kind to her, but she knew that compared to a master like him her potions were nearly worthless. Being in the guild house always made her wish she could learn to be a better alchemist, or even learn a spell or two, but that took cash. People didn't train for free, and instructional books were expensive.

All in all she had about 25 gold pieces in her pocket, from which she needed to buy vegetables, apples, meat and thread. It was enough, but not for long. With this amount of gold being made she would have to go out to the clearing far more often, and find new sources of ingredients to tide them over until the fields began to yield crops again. She barely had any time for all the things she needed to do as it was.

When she got to the market it was worse than she had anticipated - half the usual traders simply weren't there, and those that were had hiked their prices immensely. Almost every stall stood next to two empty ones, and the townsfolk were mobbing those that had their wares set out, buying far more than was usual. One old man who passed her by could hardly hold all of the vegetables he was carrying.

Confused, she grabbed the arm of a passing guard.

"What's going on here? Where's Balin, Riccarido, Nellin?"

He shook his head in response, looking grim.

"There's trouble on the roads to east, looks like no one is able - or maybe dares to risk - getting through."

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" she asked.

She was suddenly reminded of Orag's words hours before. Could the Argonians actually be invading Cyrodill?

"From what I hear it's a great wave of refugees and war-wounded evacuating from Morrowind. They're not allowed to cross the border of course, but you've have to have a black soul to send them back if you ask me. All the same, this is all that's managed to come through. Things will probably be back to normal by next week."

Dannen nodded, relieved. If it was only temporary then she wasn't in as much difficulty as she had feared. And no invading Argonians was always nice.

Instead of her usual shopping she got only turnips and apples. The healer had told her that her father needed to eat the fruits to keep up his strength, so she was glad that they had not gone up in price as much as she feared. It was a local crop, and there was still a lot of competition for her gold in the square. The thread on the other hand was nowhere to be seen, and the price of meat had rocketed.

Even though she hadn't bought much, but by the time she got home her arms were aching again all the same, and one of the apples was bruised badly where it had fallen on the way. She had rubbed it and picked most of the grit out but it was only just salvageable. She was going to have to make something with it, or else her father would never eat it. He hated apples, and having them become part of his mandatory diet hadn't helped things.

When she got to the fields she stopped, looking puzzled. It was nearly midday and Sathyn was not yet working in the field. She hoped 'freedom to come and go' did not mean that she was going to start working patchily and still expect pay.

She passed through the door of the house, and gently as she could let the vegetables spill out onto the tabletop she used for cooking. It was right next to her alchemy spot, and she was always careful that the two never met. Deathbell petals in your soup and onion juice in your potions never ended well.

"You're home."

She smiled widely at her father. A fresh new day seemed to have helped to list his mood, because while not happy, his expression was not the grim, stormy one of the night before.

"Yes. I've been to get apples."

Her father couldn't hide his disgust at that, and eyed the apples with mild hostility.

"But where is everything else?" he asked, puzzled.

Dannen's smile faded for a moment, but then a realization struck her - this was exactly the kind of wake up call her father needed. She decided to be blunt and honest.

"We don't have enough money anymore. The chapel can't buy any more of my potions, and I can't get much more than 60 septims a week without their support. I can't go out more than I do, I'm needed here, and even if I can make time, there just aren't enough plants out there that I can use. There's no way I can afford to buy meat or anything like that anymore"

Her father looked concerned for a moment, but then waved her off.

"Don't worry about that. We have plenty of things we can do without to get us through hard times."

"Well the only thing I can see that we have _left_ to sell in your sword, and then what?" she scowled.

"My…my sword?" her father looked at the sword above the mantle with worry in his eyes.

"There has to be something else we can sell."

"There isn't."

Secretly she was glad that her father hadn't demanded that that be exactly what they should do. She had held it once and she knew that she had to do it again. Even if she mastered swordplay she knew she'd never get a chance to wield something so beautiful and unique as the blade her father owned.

"And that's why you're going to have to accept that Sathyn and I are going to be running the farm from now on." she said with finality.

"Pfft. You think that you can run the farm? And what are you thinking, trusting a stranger in our house, and a dark elf too. I was worrying about you all evening last night."

Dannen was about to reply when the door swung open to reveal Sathyn herself, and over her shoulder was slung a deer, an arrow sticking through its throat surrounded by a bloom of dark red staining its white bib, and another slit down the length of its belly.

"I'm sorry, I tried to knock but it swung open." she said shifting its weight.  
At once her father swung his head away from her and to the wall, and his face returned to its sullen expression.

Dannen rushed forward and helped her to lower the carcass to the ground.

"You went out hunting?"

"Yes, I shot it in the forest this morning. I was wondering if you wanted to share it with me. It's far too much for one"

Dannen was filled with gratitude. It seemed like Sathyn was turning out to be the key to getting back on their feet in every way. There was enough meat to feed them all for the rest of the week.

"That…thank you." she said. Her father said nothing.

The mer nodded to her, and turned out of the doorway towards the field, where she heard her immediately get to work.

"So she's a hunter," he said at last, looking down at the deer lying on the dirt floor.

"So it seems. She hasn't said what she does exactly, but it seems to me like she's a hand-for-hire for a range of things."

"Hmph. It's a good eye that can make a shot like that. Of course being an elf gives her something of an advantage…."

Dannen suddenly realized why her father seemed to be less set against Sathyn. If there was one thing her father respected, it was someone who could handle themselves in combat. She decided to take advantage of his relative talkativeness and try and do as much pushing in the right direction as she could.

"It's not just archery, she's good with blades too apparently."

"A strong sword arm as well, huh?" he said, eyes flicking again to the sword above the mantle.

"I may not hold with this idea of trying to farm, but having someone around who knows how to keep off wolves and bears might not be such a bad thing."

If she hadn't had been turned away from her father, putting away the apples, he would have seen her smile. Already he was starting to change his mind.

That evening, full of venison and happiness, Dannen waited for her next sword lesson with anticipation. After eating together Sathyn had told her that tonight they would begin with some simple training. She sat and stared at the sword with longing, unable to concentrate on her book at all. She was a little afraid of the dark, but she simply hadn't been able to tell Sathyn to wait until the next herb gathering trip. She had to start now or die of excitement.

At last there came a hard, loud knock at the door which made her jump almost out of the chair. Annoyed, she answered the door.

"What do you think you're doing? What if you'd woken my father up?" she demanded indignantly. She was more confident now about what she was doing, but she was not fool enough to forget how much was at stake if her father found out what was going on.

"You said he never wakes up until dawn, remember? But now we know for sure it's true. If that didn't wake him up then we can practice without worrying." said the elf with a half smile.

She had a point, and Dannen decided not to press it. Instead she moved back into the room to get the sword.

"Wait, you won't be needing that." she called.

Dannen turned back confused, and saw that Sathyn was holding up a pair of long sticks. The bark had been stripped from them with a knife, and each was about the width of her thumb.

"We'll practice with these for now."

"Ah."

* * *

The clearing Sathyn had set up was small, but well lit by torches which she had pushed deep into the earth. The flickering firelight made her feel even more like she was beginning some kind of adventure.

The training was tough, and even though the night was cold Dannen didn't feel it. She was learning how to move with the stick as 'an extension of her body', which Sathyn was teaching her with a rigorous course of dashing around hitting any object she called out as soon as possible. At first it had seemed ridiculous, like a little kids game, but she was beginning to see the point. When they started she had been stopping and almost poking at the things with her stick, but the more she did, it the faster and more fluid her moments became. She was learning how to make contact without stopping, when to extend her arm and how to lock her elbow into place. Still she wanted to learn some combat moves.

"Sathyn I'm exhausted." she gasped. "Can't we do something combat based? How about that blocking thing you mentioned last night."

Sathyn looked at her appraisingly, and shrugged."You'll have to work up your stamina a lot more, but I can't see why we can't teach you something different while you take a break."

Dannen soon found out that blocking wasn't much of a break at all. She was battered, jarred and bruised by Sathyn's casual hits, and she didn't seem to be improving at all. The elf was a true master. Her arm moved as though it were connected to her own thoughts, sliding around her parries and blocks like she were fighting in slow motion. She saw now why sticks were a far better idea than swords for learning.

"Am I improving at all?" she asked as a particularly hard hit bounced off her shoulder.

"Some. Don't expect too much too soon, you'll only get discouraged."

Sathyn span away from the one-sided fight and sat on a fallen pine trunk and Dannen finally was able to let her aching arms fall to her sides.

"I know, it's just hard when we're so unevenly matched."

"Ha, if you're thinking like that try this - when you fight everyone else they will seem easy to beat." the dunmer laughed a little, and Dannen couldn't help but grin. Dark elves were always so arrogant.


	3. Chapter 3

Sathyn came at her with a spinning step that looked almost like dancing, sweeping her stick up dangerously close to Dannen's face, but luckily she managed to step back just in time. In the same movement she brought her own stick up to the elf's thigh, also almost landing a strike.

For a moment both women stood still, catching their breath. All of their practice sessions were long and grueling. Each day that she would go out gathering herbs was also a session of parrying and footwork drills, and every single night was spent honing her skills. Under Sathyn's expert eye, Dannen was well on her way to becoming a competent swordswoman.

The new muscles she was developing were easy to hide, although she had had to let out and alter all of her dresses at least once, but the bruises were more difficult. Sathyn was always sure to jab her as hard enough to leave a mark, so as to give her incentive to learn. For the first few weeks it had been painful to do just about everything around the farm, and she had been sure that her father would notice that something was going on, but he didn't, and the tactic was a great one.

It had been nearly three months since their sessions had begun, and almost all the bruises that remained on her body now were fading rather than fresh. The clumsy movements of her first attempt had been replaced with movements that were fluid and controlled, and Sathyn was no longer able to simply stand in one spot to get the better of her.

But she knew that that didn't mean she was Sathyn's equal. That was clear, and she proved it with a retaliating shot, almost identical to the one which Dannen had tried herself. Too late to block it, she was had to move with the blow, forcing her to her left, and onto her knees.

The elf dropped her stick to signal the fight was over and offered her a hand up. Gratefully, but cautiously, she placed her hand in hers and was hauled to her feet. Over their practice sessions Dannen had come to see Sathyn as something of a friend, but it wasn't unusual for her to pull some kind of surprise move on her when she wasn't expecting it. That was also part of her training.

"I think we're done for the day." Sathyn said, dropping her hand and picking up both of the sticks from the ground of the clearing. Dannen's alchemy ingredient gathering spot had become the usual area for their battles.

Dannen nodded, rubbing her sore leg.

"Every time I start to feel like I'm really improving you manage to knock me to the ground." she complained.

"It's alright, just a bruise. You've only been practicing for a few months, and I've been practicing for decades." she replied, already beginning to walk away down the trail. Dannen hurried to catch up.

"No, it's okay. It hurts but it probably wont bruise."

"Well, it's the bruises on your ego that you learn from anyway." she shrugged.

Dannen laughed - it was true. The bruises on her body were a reminder that she needed to be better, but the ones on her ego drove her to strive to do that. And also stopped her from getting an inflated head.

The walk back from the clearing was long, the pair keeping pace with each other, talking about swordplay and the books Dannen had leant her to read. The day was warm, with the golden leaves of autumn scattered in patches across the forest floor.

Eventually they broke through the edge of the woodland and Dannen smiled at the sight of home. This too had changed a lot since she had first met Sathyn. Where once there had been tangles of weeds and broken fences was a farm, ready to be used once winter passed.

* * *

When they met the road by the farmhouse Dannen expected them to part ways as they always did - Sathyn would take the sticks they used for practice back to her camp, while she began to make dinner, and then the three of them would eat together once the food was ready. It was their daily routine, but this time the elf held out a hand to stop her.

"Here, take this for the fire." she said.

Dannen was confused, the elf hadn't picked anything up or taken anything from her pockets. Then, to her surprise, she lifted the sticks and snapped them both in half at once. It was an impressive display of strength, but she still wasn't sure what was going on. The elf poured the jumble of sticks into her hands.

"What are you _doing_? " she demanded, and then it dawned on her.

The elf grinned.

"Tonight we're going to see what you can do with that glass sword of yours."

Dannen couldn't help but grin back. She had been waiting for this moment since she had first held the blade, and now the day had finally come, she could hardly stand to wait the few hours more before nightfall so their lessons could begin.

"You really think I'm ready to use a real sword?" she asked.

"You were ready a month ago at least."

"Then why on earth have you spent all this time poking me with sticks." she demanded, scowling.

"Ego." she reminded her. "That, and you can never overtrain, only under. Always be realistic about your own skill in a fight, and over estimate your opponent's. That's another good lesson to remember."

"Mhmm" she replied, rolling her eyes to herself. Sathyn always seemed full of strange sounding advice when they trained. She often wondered where it was that she had picked them up, and who had trained _her_. But the elf never said a word when she asked. She seemed highly uncomfortable discussing where she had been, and what she had done in her life before arriving at the farm. At first it had made it hard for her to trust her fully, but now it just made her infuriatingly curious.

But she respected her friend's privacy, because that's what Sathyn was, a friend. She had never really had a chance to spend this much time with anyone similar to her own age before. There were a few boys in the town, but no one whose company she really enjoyed like she did Sathyn's. It had made her realize just how much of her life had revolved around her father before they had met.

"Okay. I don't want your father asking any questions, so you'd better go ahead."

Dannen nodded, and sped off towards the house, full of excitement and anticipation.

* * *

That night, when the knock finally came, she was already standing by the door ready to let Sathyn in. She had been leaning against the wall, gazing at the sword ever since her father had fallen asleep.

Before the elf could say a word she was already over by the mantle, eagerly lifting the sword from its bracket. It felt good to hold it again. She wanted to swish it around and try out some of the things she had learnt right there and then, but she knew she'd have to wait out the agonizing journey to the spot Sathyn set up before she could. Sathyn would never approve of her using a sword without an opponent, and certainly not out of excitement. It was always a good idea to keep on the elf's good side before a practice session.

"You'll need this too." said Sathyn, raising her eyebrow, as if both amused and disapproving of her eagerness.

Dannen looked down to see a bundle of leather straps in the elf's hands. They were well worn, and there were several buckles attached to it.

"What is it?"

"A sword belt. My old one, so don't worry about borrowing it from me, just make sure you buy your own when your tomatoes are finally sold."

She took the belt and held it up. Even knowing what it was, she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it, and she told Sathyn so. With a sigh, the elf unbuckled the largest strip and strapped it painfully tight around Dannen's waist. Next she had to reluctantly part with the sword as it was in turn strapped to the belt.

"And be really careful when you walk." she warned. "Usually you'd attach the scabbard to it, but since you don'r have one it's going to have to be unsheathed, and that's going to end badly if you fall over."

Dannen looked down at her hip apprehensively.

"Don't worry, it can't cut you if you're walking or running, just don't go rolling around up tripping up."

She wasn't convinced, and continued to eye it warily. Having practiced with sticks for so long she had almost forgotten her fear of cutting herself, but now it was back, and strong. She was very aware of all of her movements as the pair left the house and began to make their way down the road, away from Chorrol. Every single time she had ever stumbled over a tree root was fresh in her mind.

At last she saw the familiar flicker of torchlight and felt her heart jump. It was finally time to test her skills with a real sword.

Only it wasn't. As soon as they reached the middle of the clearing Sathyn began to explain how her belt worked, making her put it on and take it off twenty times, and then draw and replace her sword another forty.

"Is this really necessary?" she groaned.

"Yes. What use is learning to use a sword if you don't even know how to draw it? You need to practice until you can do it without even looking at it. Perfectly. Every single time."

Dannen saw her point, but she was still itching to get her hands on the blade properly. Any other day she would have reveled in the new exercises, but tonight all she could think about was dancing footsteps and parries with a _real_sword.

"This isn't _all_we're going to do tonight though is it?"

Sathyn gave her an annoyed, but appraising look, then drew her own sword from her hip. Next to the amazing colors and strange shape of Dannen's it looked plain, but she could tell it was a work of a skilled craftsman. The material was a silver color, but frosted over as if someone had exhaled over steel. And the hilt and base of the blade was decorated with a delicate vine motif.

"What is that sword made of?" Dannen asked, intrigued.

"Silver. It's not as strong as steel, but it has properties that steel doesn't."

"Like what?" she asked. She had never seen or heard of a sword made of silver before - it was definitely expensive, so whatever these properties were they must be valuable in their own right. She dreaded to think what it would cost to buy one of her own.

"It's effective against ghosts, undead, will 'o the wisps." she explained, taking some warm up swings. Then she stretched out her body, warming up for the fight. Dannen did the same. At first she had been self conscious bending and stretching, worried that she looked stupid, but pulled muscles had quickly taught her the importance of preparing correctly. The elf's speed and height was formidable.

"Okay, now," said the elf, falling into a defensive stance. "Try and hit me."

Dannen took a tentative swing, and Sathyn danced away.

"Don't be afraid of cutting me, you wont."

Goaded, and a little embarrassed Dannen took another, much more forceful swing, hoping to catch the mer off guard. Instead she found herself cutting through thin air yet again. The dance went on for about ten minutes - Dannen becoming exhausted and Sathyn swirling around out of reach like a fire elemental, until at last Dannen got a strike.

It was a nick, she caught her upper arm just a little, but Sathyn cried out in pain, almost dropping her sword.

At once Dannen stopped the fight.

"Are you alright?" she asked. She wanted to go over to check, but she was worried it might be some kind of feint.

"Yeah, sure. Urgh." she put her hand to her shoulder for a moment, then rubbed at her temple. "I forgot about the sting in your blade's tail. I thought for a moment you'd really wounded me."

Dannen was confused. What sting was she talking about?

"That nasty little frost spell on your sword." she explained. Dannen instantly felt guilty. She didn't know what it was like to be the victim of destruction magic, but she doubted it was a pleasant experience.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged, but did not reply.

* * *

After that neither of them seemed to be enjoying the session, with Dannen's confidence shaken and Sathyn's pride knocked, and at last Sathyn declared it was time for them to get back to their respective beds. With a wave of magika she extinguished the torches, and the darkness of the night fell around them.

"What on earth is that?" Dannen cried suddenly, pointing towards the north. Against the dark sky great banks of smoke were now visible, and beneath it there seemed to be the orange glow of a huge fire.

Panic suddenly rose in her chest and she span around.

"Please tell me that's not the direction of my farm." she pleaded.

"I don't know." Sathyn replied, face tight-lipped and ashen. "Wait here."

"No!"

"STAY HERE." she shouted, and cast a fireball.

For a moment Dannen was terrified as it hurtled towards her. She could feel the heat on her skin, but she couldn't seem to move. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for it to hit her, but it didn't. When she opened them again, Sathyn was gone, and a row of torches had been lit.

She sighed for a moment in relief, then ran on after the elf, worried for her house, and most importantly of all, her father.

* * *

Sathyn cursed to herself as she sprinted through the undergrowth. She should have picked up on the blaze much sooner than an imperial, but the light and distant scent of burning had been masked by the torches.

But now she was getting closer, could tell it was something far more distinct - not a wildfire like she had hoped, but worse. She smelt the sweet, spicy scent of old, dried timber and the acrid pungency of burning herbs and alchemy supplies. And over that a stink that was unmistakable yet unexplainable. Daedra.

Before she even reached the trees closest to the road she knew she had to stop. The fire was huge - the house was gone, the fields were blackened and already beginning to be coated in ash. She gagged at the smell of burning flesh. There was nothing anyone could have done.

But that was disregarding the most disturbing part of the scene. There, in the field was a huge daedra. The summoning was a twisted thing, like a naked woman's body that had been discolored and decayed. From the place where its arms should have been sprouted three insect like, skeletal arms, as though some insect were wearing a person as a glove. It was scratching through the rubble and flames with all six hands, tossing still-burning chunks of wood behind it effortlessly.

She shrank back into the woods, never taking her eyes off the scene. She could make sense of it when she got away from the monsterous thing, but right now survival was her first priority.

"By the nine divines!" Dannen choked out from behind her.

She should have known the Imperial would not have stayed. She had hoped to maybe scare her into staying a safe distance away, but over the last few months she had proved herself to be headstrong, and intent on proving herself to be brave and capable, even if she was only just learning how.

As fast as she could she turned and sprang at her, knocking her to the ground and out of sight. With her legs she pinned her down, and with her hand she covered the imperials mouth. She could see the wild animal panic in her eyes as she looked down. A part of her wanted to knock her out and run, the other wanted to explain to her that she wasn't the enemy. A tiny part wanted to let her run out towards the flames and the daedra and be none of her business. But she held firm, and looked hard at Dannen and began to whisper urgently: "We need to get away right now. The farm is gone, and there's some kind of creature I've never seen before. Please don't scream."

Dannen began to thrash under her hands, tears flowing and making sounds half like words and half like screams. Sathyn looked up towards the monster in fear. She had no idea how good its hearing might be.

"_Please stop." _she hissed.

But she wouldn't, she just tried harder to get away, and bit Sathyn's hand as hard as she could. With a grimace she let magika flow through her bleeding palm, and Dannen at last lay still.

It was a calming charm, the strongest she knew. Dannen's eyes were blank, staring up at the sky, and her body limp. Sathyn paused for a moment, deliberating, then hefted her onto her back, and began to make her way to safety.

The whole journey she kept her ears pricked, smelling the air. Nothing about what had just happened made any sense to her at all. What kind of creature was that, and what business did it have with the out of use farmhouse of an old man and a teenage girl. It had obviously been looking for something, but as far as she was aware there was nothing at all of interest inside it. Sathyn was afraid. She hadn't signed up for any of this. Deadra, arson, kidnapping and manhandling dead weights through the forest.

At last she reached her camp, and let Dannen roll onto her bedroll with relief. Her back was aching and her muscles cramped from the dead weight. Gingerly, she stretched out and cast a spell of detect life over herself, looking around carefully.

She couldn't see anything out of place, nor could she smell or hear anything other than the forest and it's usual creatures. They all seemed undisturbed, other than by her own presence, but she didn't rule out the chance of pursuit. Maybe whatever that nightmarish thing was had been perfectly aware of them, and once it found what it was looking for it would come for them.

A horrifying thought struck her, and she grimaced. What if that thing had been looking for Dannen's father's body. To eat. That was all she needed.

In the corner, Dannen began to stir, and Sathyn readied herself for an onslaught or maybe a mad dash for excape. But instead of springing to life she began to roll and groan weakly, as though still trying to fight her off.

"Dannen?" she whispered, moving over. The imperials eyes snapped opened.

"Sathyn, we've got to help my father. Did you see…did you see that fire?" she began to cry, huge heaving sobs.

"There's nothing we can do. Please stop thrashing."

She tried to make her voice soothing, but it did nothing to help. Dannen continued to cry and shout things, and occasionally had to be pinned down again. It must have been thirty minutes before she finally gave out.

The pair sat in silence, Dannen laying face down, sniffing, with Sathyn crouched a little way away.

"I'm sorry Dannen."

She began to make noises again, and the tears began to flow afresh.

"_Sorry? _You're not sorry." she yelled. "Why didn't you help him?"

Dannen tried not to look angry. It was difficult for her to understand just what Dannen had lost, and she knew it, but she hadn't been obligated in any way to help her in the way she was. The casual friendship they had formed over the last few weeks working together was certainly not something she would usually risk her life over. She owed her nothing, and yet had already saved her life, and been repaid with blows and insults.

"I couldn't Dannen. The fire was out of control, and there was a thing there. Did you see it?"

She nodded slightly, but didn't seem to agree that what she had seen was enough to warrant leaving her father.

"But you're this great hunter - swordfighter. You could have killed it, we could have helped him. We didn't need to run."

"I couldn't do anything, I swear to you."

Dannen screwed up her face and shook it hard, denying it all. Sathyn finally lost her patience.

"Fine. " she muttered. "But whether you believe it or not I can't let you go back, not tonight."

"I wish -" replied Dannen, but at that moment her voice broke, and the choking tears came back, closing off her throat. She pulled at the edge of her blanket and yanked it over her head, hiding her from view.

Sathyn simply slumped back, her face closed off, lips tight, waiting for her to cry herself out again. It didn't take more than a few minutes before her sobs softened into sniffs and strange, involuntary whimpering sounds in her throat, and then those finally stopped to.  
She wouldn't have admitted it, but she felt a guilt settle in her stomach. She knew she had done the right thing, but seeing Dannen like that made her feel like she was to blame.

To an outsider, the scene might have been mistaken for calm - the only sound was the soft crackle of Sathyn's fire, sending glowing sparks up into the heavens. Somewhere far off, birds fluttered into the air in a cloud, startled. But to the pair of them the whole world felt desolate and full of enemies.

* * *

She had been waiting for her chance to escape since the moment Sathyn had pulled her away from the road.

It had been so long since that had happened. She refused to think about what that meant though. The fire and the unnatural screams of that strange daedric creature were all she could think about. She had never been away from her father for this long, nor had she ever felt this much fear for his well being.

So she had waited - her head down but unable to sleep even if she had wanted to - for some distraction that would let her make her escape. After a few hours the elf had finally fallen asleep, her feet toasting by the fire, but she was too afraid of waking her to make her move then. It was even later in the night when her luck changed. Rain.

Rain, pouring down from the heavens and drumming loudly on the oiled hide which Sathyn had stretched over the branches above them. It was the perfect cover for hiding the sound of her escape.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled the itchy blanket down and fully away from her face. It was colder then she had expected, and she knew she would have to find the road as soon as she could if she had a hope of getting back to the town and finding out what had happened to her father.

Sathyn remained still. Without the blanket obscuring her vision she could see that the elf was propped up against a tree, her head turned away from her and out across the forest. The hand on her bow was relaxed though, which spurred her on.

She knew she should move slowly, but as she rose to her feet, she panicked, scared that Sathyn could turn around at any moment and put a stop to what she was doing. She slipped out from beneath the blanket like an otter moving through water, and in the same motion, began to run.

It was hard. The wind was blowing the cold rain into her face, making her screw up her eyes against the stinging droplets, on top of the already poor visibility of Secunda's crescent moon. She couldn't help but slip and stumble as she sped on, hoping she was keeping to the course she had planned.

Eventually she was forced to slow down her pace, although the urge to hurry in her chest didn't die. The cold rain was sapping her strength and weighing down her clothes, and her sprint became a jog, became a walk, became a slow trudge through the undergrowth.

And although there was no sign of pursuit, she was scared. Not just that Sathyn might find her and stop her from going back, but of the forest itself. Under the blanket it had been simple - her goal couldn't have been clearer and nothing could had turned her against it.

But now, frozen, wet through, and alone, she realized that she had let her heart get in front of her head. What could she do now that she couldn't do when Sathyn took her back to the town? Provided she was telling the truth, of course. Dannen still felt suspicious about the reasons why she had pulled them out into the forest instead of returning to the town. She wasn't sure she could trust the elf anymore.

But even then she would have had the woman's protection from the elements, and the animals that lurked in the forest. And that terrible thing she had seen by her home.

She suddenly brought her hand down to her hip, checking the sword was still securely attached to her belt. To her relief, it was still there. She clutched its hilt tightly and fought back another wave of tears. It reminded her of her father, and the fact that it might be the only thing left of her life that remained unburnt or destroyed.

But it was also the symbol and tool of her ability to provide herself with her own protection. She had been a perfect daughter so long she still forgot that she wasn't still such a helpless target anymore. She didn't want to be.

She pressed on, regaining her speed as her thoughts became less hesitant and the rain lessened. Here even the silvery moonlight was brighter, and for some reason the trees were growing further and further apart. She hoped it was a sign that the road, or even better, that the town was growing near.

* * *

Somewhere off in the trees an elk crashed through the undergrowth, and Sathyn jerked to her feet as fast as lightening, her bow clutched tightly in her hand. For a moment she stood as still as she could, listening, smelling the air. Then she crouched, still watchful. The rain made it hard for her to utilize her superior senses, and that made her uncomfortable at the best of times. She had always made a point never to work in the rain. To others it was often an advantage, obscuring sight and masking movements, but to her the price was heavier than she liked to pay for such small rewards. With skill and planning she could have an illusion spell on hand, or a spell of muffling if need be. But nothing could compare to a clear shot and a keen ear.

The elk crashed on, away from the camp, and eventually all was silence apart from the sound of drizzle falling slowly on her oilskins. But that was in itself odd, although she struggled for a second to understand why. Then she realized, turning sharply to the left, that the source of her unsettling feeling was where she had made up the bed for Dannen to sleep in.

She could hear no breathing, nor the movement of the thick fibers. And she could clearly see that no body was occupying the space between the blanket and the ground.

Pricking her ears she moved over to the blanket. The heavy rain had softened and disturbed the earth, making it harder to track earlier movements, but it was still clear that wherever Dannen had gone, she had gone alone. Sathyn was relieved, then angry. She had told her why it was important to stay put overnight, she had told her so many times out in the woods what a dangerous place they could be. She had trusted that that, and her seeming surrender to Sathyn's plans would have been enough to keep her there.

"You idiot."

* * *

When the trees finally broke into a clearing Dannen was amazed at what she saw, and afraid. The first thing she thought to do was fall to the ground in the hope that she hadn't been seen, and she instantly did. Crouching behind a twiggy patch of undergrowth she looked up.

Above her was a twisting creature, with the head of an eagle and huge, beautiful feathered wings. It was vast, and a dazzling, facetted, white flecked with black. In its claws it held a writhing serpent, its mouth agape as if ready to sink its fangs into the fantastical bird's neck.

And that was when she realized what she was actually looking at was a great, ancient statue.

She got to her feet slowly, and attempted to brush off her wet skirts. The sculpture was part of a building, and she had never, ever seen anything like it before. The clearing in the trees was the biggest open space she had ever seen, and through it was scattered chunks of stone so large they could have been small cliffs. In some places there were other statues and reminders of the structure's obvious former glory - beautiful female elves in mournful positions, broken arches with carved knotwork, raised walkways pitted by erosion and overgrown with little wildflowers. It was eerie, and dreamlike.

She couldn't help but be drawn in by its beauty, even though she still felt a kind of foreboding. It was almost like a nightmare, a feeling of being pulled on and into the strange ruined structure. As she passed, she reached out to touch the stone base of the statue which had scared her moments ago. It was slick, but rough, as thought it were made of tiny grains of marble. She could tell it was very hard, and probably very heavy.

She moved on, always half expecting to see something step out from behind the next piece of fallen stone, but nothing did. There were no signs of life other than the grasses, mosses and wildflowers, which were abundant, and she soon relaxed a little. It was obviously deserted, and, she realized, might be exactly what she needed.

She started to look around more purposefully, trying to find some kind of wide arch or doorway which would let her make camp for the night, and get dry. She didn't have anything on her that could burn, but she still had her firestones in her pocket, along with a wad of kindling. If she could find somewhere dry she might be able to find some leaves and twigs too. Then she could warm her clothes and set out again when it got lighter.

At last she caught a glimpse of a door, up high on top of what looked like a raised stone walkway. And promisingly, there looked like there was some kind of room behind it that was entirely intact.

For a while she walked around, looking for the best way to scale the smooth face, until she found a section which had been made rough when part of the building had been broken away. It was hard to scale it with the stone covered in water, and the first few times she fell. But at last she managed to haul herself over the edge. She paused for a moment, to get her balance, then hurried over to the door.

To her disappointment, she could not get the heavy stone door to move and inch, no matter how she pulled and pushed at it. Then, to her relief, she saw another doorway, sunken below it on the other side of the building. The heavy door to this passage had fallen away from the frame, and she half walked, half slid, down the leaf covered steps and hurried inside.

It was much more intact internally than the scattered exterior had indicated. The stone roof was solid - probably because it had been protected by being mostly underground - and almost no light filtered in to illuminate what lay before her.

It was cold, though. Cold enough that she was sure that that there must be an opening somewhere nearby. Her father had always told her that caves stayed warm even in winter everywhere but at the entrance, and she guessed that being underground, the building would be the same.

Her father. It still seemed so surreal to think that everything might be over. Everything.

She waited a little while for her eyes to adjust and pressed on, scanning the floor for debris she could use to make a fire as she picked her way down the pitted stone steps that led deeper into the old ruins. It didn't seem like anyone had lived there in a very long time – still water had pooled in the lowest parts of the structure, full of rubble and large, strange crystals that seemed to give off a glow of their own which saturated the liquid with a faint blue-green light. It was eerie, and she didn't want to wander too far in, but the cold was deep and permeating, her breath instantly steaming and rising in clouds. Hopefully she could find a small, sheltered area away from the chill and damp where she could make a fire…

And there, as if in answer to her thoughts, she kicked at something accidentally with her foot. It rolled away in the darkness, but the sound was unmistakable. Whatever it was was made of wood. She groped around until she found it. It was thick, long and tapered, like a club, And to her joy she felt that the thickest end was covered in rags. She sniffed them, and smiled. Someone, sometime in the not so distant past had been here before her, because what she was holding was not a branch but a torch.

She sat down at once, legs crossed, and began to strike her firestones together over the oil-soaked rags. It took a few strikes, but soon dancing blue flames began to spread, and after a little gentle, expert coaxing it was burning brightly.

She held it aloft and looked around properly for the first time.

She had been right about how intact the building was from the inside - except from where staircases and walkways had succumbed to the ravages of time, the building looked perfect. There were no plants or lichen, or signs of animal life. It was as if the place had simply been sealed up and forgotten. But unfortunately, there were no more supplies or wood from her unwitting benefactor.

She clutched at herself to try and conserve what little warmth her damp clothes provided, and carried on in search of a place to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Sathyn was very good at tracking through the forests - tracking for deer, and tracking for people. In fact she didn't know which she had hunted for more frequently, but she didn't need to use any of her finely honed skills to follow Dannen. The Imperial was heavy footed enough even when she wasn't upset, and her wooden-soled shoes had punched deep impressions into the moss. And if even that wasn't enough, there were deep gouges in the earth periodically where the rain had made her slip. She was surprised that Dannen had managed to get away, especially when she was so on edge, but it wasn't going to take long to find her again.

She hoped so anyway. She hadn't forgotten what she had seen, what might be out there in the forest. And as for explanations, she still didn't even have a starting point after contemplating it for half of the night. She didn't know if it was some random attack, arson, or if it was even over. If it was calculated, Dannen might be the next target.

Which made it even more foolish that she was trying so hard to find her. She'd only known her for a couple of months, but there she was, running through monster infested forests at night for her, with nothing to gain from it herself.

But she wanted to. Not for Dannen, not entirely, but to prove that she could be different if she wanted to. That she could stop, that she could change.

The rain drifting down finally stopped, but not soon enough to prevent dirty moss water from getting into her boots. She also noted dimly, that Dannen's path went in almost the opposite direction to Chorrol.

* * *

Her legs were so cold she couldn't feel them anymore. She had explored further and further into the structure looking for a place to sleep, but now she was just lost. Everything here looked the same. It was a maze of bone-white stone which glittered in the strange blue light produced by the crystals which grew in clumps and patches on the walls.

All she wanted was to lie down on the wet stone and sleep. Or better yet, get out of this place. She would happily walk all the way to Chorrol without sleeping for a moment if she could just find her way out. At first it had been an adventure, fending for herself, even if it was one saturated with loss. Now she was trapped here, alone with her thoughts.

And they were bitter thoughts. Most of all she was terrified for her father, and what her future would hold in or out of this place. But she was also finding that Sathyn popped into her mind a lot too. At first, with her mind clouded with fury and fear, she had felt like the elf was her enemy, but as she felt her loss ebb from a raging storm to a feeling of emptiness she couldn't help but begin to understand Sathyn's actions. Seeing things for what they really were, she realized that she had probably saved her life.

She stopped, clutching at one of the blue crystals as her stiff legs made her stumble. Its rough natural edges cut deeply into the pads of her fingers, and she jumped back again as blood began to run down to her wrist. Awkwardly she reached into her pocket and wrapped a handkerchief around it, careful not to get too close to the flame of the torch, or to drop it.

She was worried about her torch too; it was beginning to burn through the rags and into the wood. It wasn't so much the light, as the weird crystals were abundant here and provided enough to see by. It was the heat that was keeping her going, and once that was gone she was going to be in a lot of trouble.

* * *

At long last the soggy moss gave way to firmer ground and low branches became high, making Sathyn's progress much swifter. The new terrain of course presented its own problems - tree roots and larger forest creatures were much more of a danger now than they had been before, as well as making it harder for her to stay out of sight. But it had stopped raining at least.

She pulled her waxed hood back down from her head, feeling her scarred ears spring free as all the sounds of the forest around her grew instantly louder. She wondered how Dannen could possibly function with the near useless ears she had been given.

Right now she could hear the water dripping from the foliage around her and sucking at her feet as she passed, and somewhere, some way off, there was a horse being ridden at a trot. That meant it probably wasn't a courier or traveler - at this time of night they would be too scared to go slowly, so probably a member of the Imperial Watch. It was hard for her not to shrink away into the shadows until they passed, even though she remembered that she had no reason too.

As she finally broke out of the edge of the woods she realized that Dannen had gotten herself into more trouble than just being lost. The trail she had been following led right down the valley, and into a sprawling Ayleid ruin.

Sathyn froze, forgetting about the rider completely, and surveyed the terrain, weighing up her options. Ayleid ruins were notoriously full of the worst kind of dangers you could find in Tamriel's forests: necromancers, the undead, bandit hideouts, even more daedra. And this place would be the perfect spot for any one of them to hide.

But would Dannen know that, the girl who didn't even know how to shoot a deer? To her it might have looked like shelter, especially when she was so upset and inexperienced.

She unsheathed her silver sword with a twinge of apprehension. The familiar weight was reassuring in her hand as she became invisible, and swept down the valley as silently as her shadow, but she was still on edge as she approached the structure.

Sure enough the deep impressions of Dannen's footprints led a meandering path through the chunks of fallen masonry, each one posing a huge threat in itself, promising to conceal any number of hidden foes. Sathyn tried to listen to every sound and focus every sense as she stole through the odd landscape, hoping more and more that she would find the stupid Imperial sheltering under one of the boulders, or even better, that she had left the ruins altogether.

But she had no such luck. The tracks ended abruptly by the most intact portion of the stone ruins. She must have climbed up before the rain had begun to fall, as the blocks rose very high, and even she, strong and agile, struggled to get enough purchase on the slick surface to haul her own weight up onto what must have once been a walk way.

The surface was, to her surprise, nothing like the bright white stones which had fallen - instead it was covered in a thick carpet of lichen and moss, and tiny, delicate flowers grew in the seams where the stones met. That is, except for the places where the covering of earth and plant matter seemed to have been churned. It was hard to see what it was exactly in the half light, but they looked like four gashes in the turf. Newly revealed stone glowed in the moonlight like silver blood welling up from a wound. Someone had dragged something heavy from one end of the walkway to the other, where a sunken spiral staircase plunged down into darkness. Something heavy enough to cut into the marble-like stone itself.

Everything suddenly felt very wrong. She felt exposed standing there so high up, and fell into a crouch, pulling herself in as small as possible. Her instincts told her to flee, and yet she didn't. Dannen was here. Somehow that was more important, to find her or simply to prove she had changed, she didn't know which.

Still invisible, still afraid, she moved silently towards the staircase, taking care not to step on the disturbing marks, and stopped as she approached the first step.

They sank down and down into the gloom, and there was a strange smell drifting up mixing with the night air. It smelt like stagnant water, decay and a strange disgusting yet familiar sweetness she couldn't place, but made her feel sick. It was the kind of place all children had nightmares about.

* * *

Dannen felt strange: muddled and slow, both physically and mentally. Her legs and arms barely responded to her anymore, and while she knew there was….something…she had been doing, and it was important, she had no idea what it had been. It was as if the cold had dipped so low it had become a fire, or maybe she was at the center of the earth? It seemed like she had been walking long enough to reach it by now. It was difficult to remember a time outside of this place too. There was a thickening fog inside her head.

Some time back, she wasn't sure when now, the torch had burnt so low she hadn't been able to hold it anymore. She had huddled by it until it went out, and then walked on. She had been looking for a way out then, but now she was meandering. She wanted to lie down and sleep. So she did.

* * *

With a deep last breath of clean air Sathyn descended the slick steps, the chilling damp in the air hitting her like jumping into a lake in winter. The smell only grew stronger, and the darkness crept up higher and higher like a tide threatening to drown her. There was no moonlight here, just the promise of monsters.

Luckily the stone door at the base of the staircase was already ajar. Upon further inspection she was horrified to discover it was not only open, but not attached to the frame at all - some great force had wrenched the centuries old slab from its very hinges. The air around the twisted metal remains practically throbbed with the power of the magicka released from the alloy.

Sathyn was _truly _afraid then. Somewhere out there in the woods was a monstrous unknown daedra, and somewhere, maybe inside, was something powerful enough to cut through stone, and tear metal and spells apart with ease.

But she stepped forward anyway. She refused to show real fear or weakness, not when she might have to face whatever had done this. She needed to seem formidable and strong.

Inside the building the sweet smell also lingered, only the smell of rotting plants had been replaced with the scent of burning. It was not only sweet, but pungent and smoky, although nothing like food. Incense maybe, although that made no sense at all. Not that much had made sense so far tonight.

She moved on, keeping hidden in the abundant shadows, constantly smelling the air and looking for further signs of the Imperial. Inside it was much harder to track her footprints. There was no dirt on the floor for her footsteps to make marks in, and the strange smell was making it hard for her to follow her with her nose. But it was just about possible, if she tried all of the passages for the one with the strongest scent, to pick up wafts of fresh pine needles, alchemy ingredients, and wood smoke.

She moved on and on through the labyrinth of tunnels, sure that at any moment she would have to find her. It was odd though, that she hadn't met anything else in the ruins so far. This wasn't her first venture inside them by a long shot, and each one had always been full of restless spirits and creatures.

It didn't bode well. Someone, or something, must have cleared them out, and recently.

* * *

When Dannen woke, it felt like someone had dipped her in fire. Every nerve was trying to scream into her brain that she was too hot, and at the same time every muscle in her body was telling her that she couldn't move. She tried, but she felt paralyzed. Something was making a noise but she didn't know if it was her, or something else.

Then a wave of force rocked through her chest, followed by another, and another. She realized it was magicka, a healing spell, and a powerful one. If she could have described it she would have said it was like honey that fizzed and sparked, but it wasn't quite like that. The sensation was indescribable, terrifying and elating all at once.

Once it passed she was grateful to find herself able to move and think again, and she could feel that the stone she was laying on was deeply cold, not red hot. But she still didn't understand at all. She opened her eyes.

Above her, red eyes loomed, and she flinched before realizing who they belonged too. The face was familiar. Sathyn.

"Are you okay now? Do you need more?" she asked, leaning over her, her hand outstretched. Dannen shook her head. She was disorientated and a little shaky, but fine.

"What's going on? What happened to me?"

Satisfied that she was telling the truth the elf pulled away and sat on her heels.

"You're an idiot, that's what happened. I _told _you why we needed to stay away until morning, but instead you decide to run around the forest in the darkest part of the night, alone, with some _thing _on the loose. And when I finally find you, you're in an Ayleid ruin with hypothermia." she snapped, her voice changing at once from the calm tones of a moment before to one of checked anger.

Dannen was sorry, but at the same time, irrationally angry as well. She guessed it was because she was finally being faced with the consequences of her actions, the worst of the thoughts that had haunted her. That she had acted rashly and gotten herself nearly killed, and in turn caused Sathyn to risk her own safety.

But not just that. There was a thought she had first had the moment she had seen the fire, one that she wouldn't let herself think yet. The fact that her own desire to learn how to fight had been what had caused her father to be alone, drugged, in the blaze. She hadn't lost all hope for him, but she couldn't lie to herself well enough to believe that he was okay. And that it was her fault.

Dannen's face reminded her of that.

"Don't you understand that I need to know what happened to my father?" she said, trying not to let her voice wobble.

"You could have waited until it was safe. You think anyone in their right mind would have let you run into the blaze?"

Dannen didn't reply. She was trying to get her thoughts straight, which seemed to have suddenly tangled up. She wanted to defend herself, but she also wanted Sathyn to know she was sorry for what she had done, and how she had acted.

"Nevermind." said the elf. "It's obvious you don't actually need my help."

And with that she stood up, and began to stalk off down one of the passages than led out of the room. At once Dannen scrambled to her feet to follow.

It was hard for her to keep up, her legs were still wobbling, and the cold she had felt before was returning to her bones alarmingly quickly.

"Look, I'm sorry." she called. "I know…I know you did the right thing. It's just…" She felt her eyes begin to water and sniffed angrily, not wanting to cry in front of the elf again.  
"It's just I have no idea what to do. I left home for half an hour and I come home…to no home. No family. And _I don't even know why, or what happened._"

The elf stopped, and looked back.

"I know. I'm sorry, I…I'm just not good when things like this happen. And I have no idea what is going on either, that's why I did why I did. I understand that it might not have looked like the best course of action to you. But I'm sorry."

"Me too. I just…" she paused, clutching at her elbows for warmth. "Let's get out of here and get back to Chorrol and find out. I need to know."

Sathyn waited for her to catch up, but she was still cold towards her as they walked, and did not speak to her or smile as she felt into step. Every few paces she would flex her hand, and a warming ball of fire would form for a moment. It wasn't much to help keep the cold off her, but Dannen was grateful for the gesture. She didn't feel distrustful towards her anymore. Just tired, and unsure what the future would bring if she really was on her own.

* * *

"How did you find me?"

"I just followed the trail of footprints and crushed plants like I would have done if I were hunting an animal." Sathyn replied tersely. She was still feeling angry at the Imperial, who didn't seem to have any kind of inkling as to how much trouble she had been in, and how close to death she had come.

When she had finally found her, it had been in the bowels of the structure, lying on the freezing stone floor, unconscious. It had taken most of her endurance to produce the magicka necessary for her to recover, and how she just felt tired and drained. Tonight had been no adventure, and she had felt no thrill of the chase. It had just been a long night full of worry and physical exertion without reward.

The worst part though was that she was lost. With the sweet smell permeating everything it was impossible for her to pick out Dannen's previous trail now, especially when the source was so close by, making everything smell a little like her anyway. If she had known how deeply into the system of corridors and rooms she would have had to go she would have found something to mark her way back. It seemed like the structure was not a building, but a maze.

But she hadn't, and for some time now they had been wandering. She had quickly lost track of which way she had come, but she didn't want to lose face by telling Dannen that. She had spent a long time cultivating her ego, and proving to herself again and again that there was no situation she couldn't get out of. She wasn't going to admit defeat, especially not to someone like Dannen. She hoped that if they just walked for long enough, they'd be able to find some landmark that was familiar, or just a way out. There had to be more than one in the sprawling structure.

But instead they simply moved through the corridors without encountering anything but darkness and that _smell_. It seemed to her that it was getting stronger, permeating everything, and coming from everywhere. Now she could detect notes in it that she hadn't been able to before - decay, rotting, something fungal. Like a swamp, or the corpse of a deer in the forest, half eaten by wolves. She hoped not to encounter its source.

But it wasn't long before the source encountered them. They had been walking for more than an hour now, lost in the labyrinth of stone and crystals, the cold more biting and the smell stronger with every step. Sathyn had tried to avoid it, but it seemed like every turn they took took them deeper into trouble. Beside her Dannen was beginning to show the signs of succumbing to the cold again, and it was only her own magicka and superior armor that was protecting Sathyn. She was built for far warmer climes than this.

So she had at very first glance taken the sounds she heard for the groans of the Imperial, beginning to come to the end of what she could endure without another healing spell. But no, the sounds were more familiar, and as soon as she realized this all of her hair stood on end, and the smell's mysterious parentage suddenly snapped perfectly into place. She instantly jerked her arm out to block Dannen's shuffling passage, causing her to look up in confusion. Sathyn held her finger to her lips, and at once the Imperial's eyes widened with fear. She waved her back, further down the tunnel, and instantly she obeyed.

The sound of groans and off balance footsteps was still distant, but she didn't need to put her head to the floor to know that they were coming towards them. They were hurried, and purposeful.

Sathyn looked around the chamber quickly, a practiced, sweeping glance that burned images inside of her head, tactical plans already forming within it. Dannen was hurried into a dark alcove, her sword unsheathed but shaking from both fear and the chill. She was a liability, but not useless or incapable. Sathyn expected to be able to take care of the situation alone, but if for some reason the zombie was able to get close to Dannen, she was more than capable of holding her ground for a little while, more than enough for Sathyn to take charge of the fight again.

Sathyn wasn't afraid, not of one zombie. But she knew that zombies did not raise themselves.

* * *

For what seemed like forever to Dannen, they waited in the gloom. She didn't know why they had stopped, but she was afraid. In her left hand she was gripping the hilt of her sword so hard she was almost sure that a rivulet of blood must be dripping from her palm. In front of her she could see Sathyn, hidden in another pool of shadow, her own sword also raised. But she didn't look afraid. She looked calm, as hard and dangerous as sharpened steel. Her eyes were trained on the doorway in front of them, presumably waiting for someone.

Dannen also tried to keep her eyes on the door, but some deep part of her was sure that something, some monster or horrible creature was standing behind her, its jaws inching ever closer to her exposed neck, and she couldn't help but flick glances around the room every few seconds.

At last, she began to hear noises from the end of the corridor, and she forgot about the shadow monsters behind her, forgot about the cold. Whatever was making that horrible noise was real. It sounded like someone drunk, stumbling, wearing wet shoes. And there was another sound, disturbing, and chilling her to the bone. It was half exhale, half a moan of pain. She had never heard anything like this before, and she hadn't wanted to.

And the smell. It was drifting up the passage, and making her choke. It smelt like rotten meat, off fruit and something else. There were so many things it was like, but no words for exactly what it was. She covered her nose with her sleeve, not wanting to ruin Sathyn's plan with the sound of her gagging. She would have held her breath, but fear made it impossible for her to do that. She was breathing in shallow gasps.

At last, the thing came through the doorway. She wasn't sure in the half light, but it looked human, not tall or short enough to be an elf, and it looked like it was in pain. Both of its feet were twisted under it like they had been broken, and it's movements were both sloppy and swift. In any other situation she would have pitied whoever it was, but she was scared stiff of the jerking, broken figure.

At the doorway it paused, as if it were sniffing the air, and then, like a hound on a scent it moved forward at a speed she would have thought impossible on such mutilated legs. In the same moment Sathyn made her move, swinging her blade and springing forward in what looked like one movement, as always, her body flowing like water.

The sword met the torso of the man with a sickening sound that went through her. But he moved on, not even phased that steel had just sliced a gaping wound through his lower rip cage. He should have been dead, writhing in agony. But instead he came on and at her, his feet making a wet, frantic drumming on the stone as he lurched at her, arms outstretched and clawing, for balance or to hurt her she didn't know which.

She didn't even think about the sword. Her mind was blank with shock. He lurched forward, and she screamed.

His face. It was horrifying. His eye sockets were empty except at the back where lumps of misshapen black flesh still clung, and his skin was beyond necrotic. Huge chunks simply weren't there, revealing the brown and black bone of its skull, teeth missing and some at wild angles jutting up through what flesh remained. It wobbled and slipped as it moved, like something that had been under the water for too long.

It alone was enough for a lifetime of nightmares, but this was an animated corpse, about to rip pieces of her own face away.

Somewhere deep in her brain stepped into action without consulting the other parts, immobilized by terror and surprise. That part hadn't forgotten her sword. She swung it wildly, hysterically, and the zombie, going too fast with too little intelligence left ran straight into it.

Her fear gave her strength, and the blade cut through the thing's outstretched claws like paper. Around her pieces of finger, and its whole left hand halfway to the elbow fell to the floor severed, and it raised its stumps to what remained of its face and howled.

It was an unnatural noise, like a man screaming and the yowl of a cat. Underneath it all though was a horrible gurgling sound, as the fluids collected in its lungs was dislodged. She shrank back, the sword out against it like a talisman.

And then it stopped. Not just the sound, but moving all together. Then the weight of its severed head caused it to tumble to the ground with the other pieces, followed by its body.

There stood Sathyn, breathing hard, sword drawn.

For a moment Dannen's brain couldn't process what had happened, and she just stared up into the elf's fiery eyes.

"Thank you," she said, still not moving.

The elf shrugged.

"I've dealt with these things before. They're not clever, and they're not that fast, but they're strong. Did it get you?" she asked suddenly, sending a ball of blue-white magicka up to the ceiling, where it stuck like a ball of mud.

Dannen glanced down, then shook her head.

"Good. Half the danger is the diseases they carry."

"What was that?" she choked out, eying the remains with fear. She didn't trust that it was dead.

"A zombie." Sathyn replied, as if it was obvious, but to Dannen it wasn't, and she looked on with doubled horror. She had heard about the Mage's Guild's ban on necromancy, but she only knew a little of what that involved, being a taboo subject. But whenever she had heard the word zombie, she had pictured a person freshly dead. It was impossible for something so decayed to move. She'd never, ever pictured anything like that.

"Come on, where there's one there's always more."

Dannen looked around the darkness, feeling a little sick.

"More?"

"Yeah. When a necromancer raises a zombie, it's almost always to protect something precious. He – or she- is probably in this structure with us right now.


End file.
